


Professional Nosy Big Sister Sally Donovan

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Breathplay, Crime Scenes, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Police Baton, Post Reichenbach, Punishment, Semi-Public Sex, Slash, dom!lestrade, night stick, sub!Sherlock, voyeur!Sally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sally Donovan begins to notice a shift in Sherlock and Lestrade's demeanor at crime scenes. </p>
<p>She decides to investigate!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professional Nosy Big Sister Sally Donovan

**Author's Note:**

> I do NOT own BBC's Sherlock or any of its characters.
> 
> Thought I'd have a little fun toying with new perspectives. :D Enjoy

It had started with  _sunshine._ What was that even? 

Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. After all, there was a lot of data that Sargent Sally Donovan had missed that were key to coming to the right conclusion sooner. Three years after the fall and Sherlock was back from the dead and solving cases again. John was no longer trailing after him but he still seemed just as keen on helping the department work out its particularaly tricky homicides. However it was no longer just the tricky homicides. Suddenly, Sherlock was at nearly every crime scene that Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade could be found, even if the cases were terribly mundane. One time Sally found herself babbling off the solution in unison to the consulting detective. Creepy yes, but that's not what's important. What is key here is that they reached the same conclusion at the exact same time. That case was too easy for Sherlock. Too easy to really require an investigation. So why was he there?

Today Sally and Lestrade were investigating what seemed to be a break-in gone horribly wrong. Anderson was upstairs looking over a rather grisly 50 year old male, sprawled across his bedroom floor. Beside them in back of an ambulance was the man's wife all wrapped in orange material practically shivering out of her skin. Greg and Sally were waiting it out for the wife to finally calm down so they could take a statement, chatting nonchalantly about last night's game. 

"Hey  _sunshine!_ " Greg called to the taller man at the other side of the yellow police tape. The taller man responded with a short wave as raised the tape high enough for him to step under.

_What was that?_ Thought Sally.  _Endearments? That's new._  

"So what have we got here?" Sherlock asked.  _Strange, his shoulders look so much more relaxed than usual. He looks almost human._

"It's looking like a break-in. Husband, Harold Waters, age 50 found murdered upstairs in the bedroom. Stabbed. Wife left alive, still haven't spoken to her yet." Lestrade filled him in with a relaxed smile.  _Why are you smiling like that? This is a bloody crime scene for christ's sake!_ Sally frowned her disaproval before averting her gaze back to the wife. Looked like the medication they gave her was kicking in, she wasn't shivering anymore but she was still distraught.  

Sherlock gave Lestrade a thoughtful look and Lestrade nodded some sort of permission. Without words the darker haired detective strolled to the ambulance. As Sherlock walked away Sally was very nearly certain she saw Greg's tongue swipe slowly over his bottom lip, his eyes half lidded with pupils cast downward. It really should have been obvious. It was obvious. Definitely crossed Sally's mind that the recently divorced Inspector may finally be acknowledging some long-held attraction to the other man. But that couldn't be it, Sally decided. It was never the obvious between those two. 

"Mrs. Waters were you in the bedroom when your husband was being murdered?" Sherlock dove straight into the questioning, his voice was a low rumble. The Mrs. shook her head.

"I was fixing up his medications in the kitchen. He likes to have juice with his medications," she said in what was nearly a whisper. Her eyes did not meet his.

Sherlock smiled in a way that Sally nearly mistook for pity. "No," he said plainly "I think when we look at his tox screen we will find that your husband had already taken his nightly medication. You see you missed a bit of blood just there." he pointed to her inner left wrist.

"No, no that's from when I found him, I went to his side," she muttered.

"No Mrs. Waters, that is from blood spatter consistant with the knife leaving your husband's body upward at an accelerated rate, flinging the blood onto your wrist. You were standing behind your husband. Do you want to try this again?" Sherlock asked sternly, his lips pursed tightly together. The woman visibly shook at his words.

"Sherlock!" Greg's voice was a bark. There was no more sunshine. Sherlock's posture became impossibly straighter in half a second. He appeared startled.  _But Sherlock is never frightened by Lestrade._ _Never has been._ Sherlock turned on his heel, his eyes wide and nearly unreadable. The only word Sally could think of was vulnerable. Greg nodded toward an alley. "C'mon you idiot." Sherlock walked timidly over to Lestrade and the silver-haired man gripped tightly at his upper arm to pull him away. Greg was audibly grumbling on about manners and what the hell was he thinking as they vanished down the dark alley, supposedly to have an argument about talking to victim's next of kin. But Sally had caught something. A smile. A very small smile that vanished almost as quickly as it had disappeared. Sally was enticed to investigate.

It was a clear night in London, the moon was spotlighting the city almost bright enough to pass as a dim day. Sally was grateful for this as she held her body tight to the brick building to the right of the alley they'd gone into. After counting five breaths Sally finally dared to peer cautiously into the alley. A few meters down she could see the two figures rather clearly. Greg was pressing one of Sherlock's shoulder's hard into the brick building behind him, with the other hand he was tilting Sherlock's chin up with his baton so that they were not making eye contact. 

"You want to tell me what the hell that was? You can speak." Greg growled.

"She was lying sir," Sherlock answered calmly, his eyes solemn.

"Do you think she was the killer?" Greg asked firmly.

"No sir. I do think she's trying to protect the killer sir." Sherlock answered

"But she was not the killer?" Greg asked with an edge to his voice.

"No sir," Sherlock whispered.

"Then there was no reason to be so rude," Greg frowned. Sherlock looked down in an attempt to make eye contact but Greg pressed his chin up higher before pulling away from the man completely. "Turn around. Hands above your head on the bricks." Sherlock complied with the request and Sally found herself on her toes in anticipation. She nearly stopped breathing when Greg very calmly reached around Sherlock's waist and began undoing his trousers before pulling them down with Sherlock's pants, exposing the man's lower half. "Ten strokes. You'll count them out. Understood?" Greg cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes sir," Sherlock replied facing the wall. Greg made the first strike against Sherlock's pale flesh with the dark baton. "One sir," Sherlock whimpered in pain. 

_What the fuck is this? One of those BDSM scenes? I should go, I should really just walk away._ Sally thought to herself, but she found that this was a rare opportunity. Sherlock did not often submit to anyone. She couldn't simply tear her eyes away from him giving himself over to Greg's punishments. It was fascinating from a psychological standpoint, but more so from an aesthetic one. She never did deny that Sherlock was attractive, and Greg certainly did have his moments, and somehow the pair of them together was absolutely overwhelming. No, she would stay awhile, to see where this would go. 

"Seven sir!" Sherlock was a shuddering mess by the time Sally came to her personal condlusions. Sally worried for him but he was clearly rock hard through the entirety of the punishment. How terrible could it be? "Eight Sir!" Sherlock nearly curled over trying to fight back the tears stinging at the edges of his eyes. Greg brought his arm back and hit him again on the back to straighten him out. Sherlock arched. "Nine sir!"

"Very good. Almost done," Greg cooed before striking him again.

"Ten sir!" Sherlock sobbed finally allowing his body to go limp. Greg smoothed a hand over Sherlock's back and arse soothingly. "Th-thank you for my punishment sir," Sherlock finally managed to stutter out after a moment or two of heavy breathing between the two of them. Well, three of them.

Greg turned him around and rested a hand on Sherlock's bare hip. He gently caressed Sherlock's cheek with the baton. "You did very good baby." He raised his hand to the other side of the taller man's face and had him rest his forehead against his own. "Mm, what do you want baby?" Greg asked quietly, "Tell me." Sally was biting her lip in the distance.

"Please sir. Please, I want to suck you off sir," Sherlock huffed against the Inspector's lips which parted to accept the baton as Greg rested it teasingly there. Greg just stood there for a moment, watching the consultant simulate his desires on the weapon until he seemed satisfied.

"Well then, on your knees," the inspector commanded with a smile. Sherlock dropped to the ground, trousers and pants still around his thighs, hands firmly behind his back, looking up anxiously at the other man.  _Oh God, is this really happening? Did he just ask to-? Is he about to-?_ Their spectator's head was reeling with lust. Her eyes drank in every moment. She made a point not to miss the slow sound of Greg unzipping and watched carefully as he pulled out so as to get a good look before it was buried in the other man's mouth.  _Impressive._ She thought to herself. Greg took a handful of Sherlock's dark curls in between his fingers and pulled him abruptly forward. Sherlock's cheek slid across the side of Lestrade's erection, Sherlock made a sloppy effort to mouth at the legnth before Lestrade pulled him all the way up to the tip. Somehow this was hotter than if Sherlock had gone to it expertly. Lestrade was very clearly still in charge, though Sherlock had asked for this.

Sherlock's bright blue eyes darted up to meet Lestrade's gaze before his tongue slid out to wrap around the tip of his cock. Sally crossed her legs to try and ease the tension with some friction, and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse to welcome in the breeze. Greg decided the time for games was over and proceeded to thrust his hips forward until he was seated completely in the detective's mouth. The look of alarm on Sherlock's face was absolutely priceless though he moaned pleasantly into the contact with Lestrade's pubic hair. As quickly as it had happened, Lestrade pulled Sherlock's head back to the tip. "Mm, baby you were made for that," he groaned. With another thrust Sally could see Greg's thick cock outlined in Sherlock's lithe throat. Sherlock's eyes rolled back as Greg held him still there. A second and then a second more and once more Greg pulled Sherlock completely off him by his hair. Sherlock gasped in an attempt to take in as much air as possible before continuing.

Sherlock moaned as Greg savagely fucked his throat, still hard and now leaking, thrusting into nothingness as he pleasured the man above him. He wasn't alone in being painfully aroused as Sally was fighting a silent struggle of her own. She must have been a ridiculous sight, peering down an alleyway with her legs tightly crossed, breathing heavily running an absent-minded hand through her hair desperate to hold onto something. She heard a rough "Oh God Sherlock!" and redirected her attention back to the pair. Greg's head was tossed back onto his shoulders, his hot breathing visable in the chill air. His fingers were scratching for purchase at Sherlock's scalp and he was shuddering in release. Incidentally Sherlock was spasming beneath him, coming in hot white ropes over the pavement, completely untouched. Damn he must have been turned on. Sally bit her lip fighting a whimper at the delicious sight before her. Her fingers curled against the bricks as she risked another rather overt glance. Greg was tucking himself back into his trousers as Sherlock held himself up on the ground still panting.

"Get yourself cleaned up then come back love. Oh and you'll apologise to Mrs. Waters yeah?" Greg smiled. Sherlock nodded obidiently. Greg turned on his heel and Sally quickly pulled herself back up against the wall. She took a deep breath trying to pull herself together enough to walk away but before she could Greg was passing his way out of the alley. "Sally," he greeted with a casual smile. She flushed and went limp against the brick as he disappeared back into the crime scene.

"Hey what were you looking at?" a familiar voice startled her from beside her. Anderson leaned over her to glance down the alley way and she swallowed hard quickly risking a look herself. Sherlock was already redressed and lifting himself dizzily off the pavement. "Holy hell, did Lestrade beat him up?" Anderson asked. Sally decided to keep her little secret, simply nodding.

"Hey you wanna go get dinner?" she asked. Anderson grinned slyly.

"Love to."


End file.
